Tag: insomnia

You know all those times that I’ve logged on and written a blog in the middle of the night because I couldn’t get to sleep? All the posts that were like, “I tried to go to sleep, but I was thinking all this stuff, so I decided to get up and write on my blog about the stuff I couldn’t stop thinking?” This isn’t one of those posts. I’m not suffering from insomnia. I just don’t wanna go to bed, even though I’m pretty tired.

Why? Well, to put it simply, I’m afraid of the quiet. I’m tired of all the thoughts that have been keeping me up this week, and I think they’re in my bed waiting for me again tonight. I don’t want to think about all the ways that nothing is what I would like it to be right now. I don’t want to think about all the things I should have said and done in the past, but didn’t or couldn’t. I don’t want to think about my very uncertain future. I don’t want to think about the people I miss. I don’t want to replay yesterday and tomorrow on permanent repeat. And somehow I’ve convinced myself that scrolling through Facebook one more time, refreshing my email again, and watching another video on YouTube is the answer. And the later it gets, the more I dread laying down. Continue reading “I Don’t Want To Go To Bed”

I have actually been doing much better with sleep lately. It makes it even more frustrating when it’s not working out. But the worst is when it’s working exactly right, I am sleeping deeply–dead to the world–and then I hear something that wakes me suddenly from that deep sleep.

I don’t know what it really was. It got filtered into the dream I was having, and it sounded like someone was banging on my door. But there’s no one at the door. I don’t know if it came from the hallway or outside. It doesn’t really matter. What matters that it startled me, and now I’m too alert to get back to sleep easily.

At least I have the cat. Mr. Darcy is doing what he usually does when I’m startled and up in the middle of the night, which is standing watch. He lays on the end of the bed or on the couch next to me, very alert, looking out. I call this pose ‘gargoyle-cat.’ Normally he’d be meowing up a storm to get me to pet him or pick him up, but now he’s just laying there, keeping an eye on things for me. He’s almost as good as a dog. It is comforting.

I’m not going to lie. I mostly wrote this post to see if I could get it out of my system. I don’t really have much to say at this hour. So I’m going to try to go back to bed now. Fingers crossed.

I’ve been sick for over a week. Without getting too graphic, I’ve been having sinus trouble that’s been causing me to have a nasty cough. There are times during the day when I stop coughing for a few hours, and I think that I’m getting better, but it hasn’t lasted. I’ve tried everything that I can think of to try to cure my problem, or at least bring me relief. Some things help for a short time, but nothing has been permanent, obviously.

I’m a fan of herbal and home remedies, if you have’t noticed. I’d rather use something natural or chemical-free to fix my ailments, whenever possible. So, I’ve been using a plethora of products and methods. I have some herbal drops that I’ve been using to make tea, things with names like “Sinus & Lung Blaster.” I also sat the other night with my head hanging over a bowl of boiled water with eucalyptus oil under a mini-tent created by a sarong. Yes, I’ve been using the neti pot. And when all else has failed, I’ve even taken Mucinex. The thing is, unless I’m constantly drinking some beverage or other, sooner or later the stuff from my sinuses that’s ending up in my throat makes me cough. I’m well hydrated.

The other thing that stops the coughing is being asleep. I’m not having any trouble with being tired; I’m exhausted from all the coughing and running to the bathroom to return all the water and tea I’ve been drinking. The problem is balancing my desire for relief from both the coughing and the exhaustion with my previous and well documented insomnia problems.

This evening, I screwed up. I just couldn’t help it, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as I got home from work, I went straight to bed. I really couldn’t help it, though. And it was delicious. I slept so good, and I wasn’t coughing. Even when I woke up, for a little while, I just laid there, and felt better than I’ve felt in over a week. Mr. Darcy, my cat, even came and laid next to me and purred for a little while I scratched behind his ears. It was cozy, and nice, and everything good.

The problem is, I only slept for three hours. And now here it is, 1 a.m. and I’m awake.

Because as an insomniac, the last thing I should ever do is take a nap after work, or nap for longer than 25 minutes ever. And I know this. And I did it anyway.

I should be going to bed every night at the same time, and getting up in the morning at the same time. I should follow the same routine every night before bed. I should never sit on my bed, or do anything on my bed, except for bed stuff. I should avoid caffeine after three in the afternoon. I should never drink alcohol. I know how helpful sleep medication can be, but habit forming, and I know the pitfalls of relying on them. I know that vanilla, chamomile, and lavender can make you drowsy. I know to turn off my electronics at least half an hour before I try to go to sleep.

I know all these rules. I live by these rules. I know the consequences of not following these rules. I also know the effects of sleep deprivation all too well. And I know there’s less of a chance that my immune system will be able to evict whatever is causing this sinus problem without proper sleep. In short, I know better.

But god damn was that nap worth it!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pee for the 500th time today, and then I’m going to try to find something really boring to read.

I’ve been trying to snap myself out of a funk (most likely induced by me missing Hawaii and having had this damn headache for three days now), and so I’ve been putting this list together in my head of things I love. And maybe if I put it out there, I’ll get some of it back.

It’s probably not escaped your attention, if you’ve been here any length of time at all, that I have two problems. For one thing, I’m a horrific insomniac and spend many days dragging ass as a result of the many nights I toss, turn, post blogs, toss some more, and tear my hair out. For a second thing, I have by and far the most inconveniently overactive imagination. When those two traits conspire against me at the same time, well, it can get pretty ugly over here in Whoville. (Am I the Grinch? Not yet, but if I don’t sleep soon, you never can tell to what I may resort.)

And so it comes about that I sit here awake, and since I happen to be sporting the Mother of All Crushes Wholly Unbecoming A Woman My Age (MoACWUAWMW), guess what that imagination is doing to me? I have no reason in the world to suspect that He is going to ask me what I’m doing this weekend, and after I rattle off the list of stuff I have planned, and He notices that I have nothing going on this Friday, He of course asks me to go bowling. And since this is a figment of my imagination, and not at all anything like reality, I quickly reply “Sure; that sounds fun,” before I truly understand what’s happening, and then I stammer out, “Um, oh, wait, um, is this a date?” In reality, if this happened to me I would most likely be wondering in my own head what it meant, arguing with myself, and finally deciding to assume that it’s not a date, because nothing that much like a romantic-comedy plot-line would ever actually happen to me. Of course, then I would proceed to lose lots of sleep over it. Anyway, I digress, because in my imagination, he laughs at me, and then says, “Yes, of course it’s a date.”

And in my imagination, I respond with a simple “oh good” and then blush deeply. But not the kind of blush I do in real life, but more like that super-endearing anime princess kind of way.

And, then I giggle of course, and it doesn’t sound like a gerbil being squeezed to death at all, and no one gawks at me or asks me if I’m dying or faking. (What? It’s my fantasy. Give me this one, OK?)

So, all of that seems lovely, doesn’t it? But not enough to keep me up all night, right? Well, of course not, but once we’ve agreed to go on a date, then I have to imagine what I would wear, and how I would tame my hair. And then there’s all the conversations that I can’t stop myself from imagining happening.

Then it occurs to me that the least I could do is get a blog post out of this. If I’m going to be awake, that is, I might as well be doing something with the fairy-tale in my head, right? Right?

And maybe, just maybe, if I could just get some sleep, I might not scare the crap out of my Object of Crush looking like a crazy woman with the bags under the eyes and what-not.

I’m not sleeping again. I wish I had some good company for this. Someone to make popcorn and laugh with about just how tired we are, and yet how unable to actually obtain unconsciousness. I would write a Craig’s List strictly platonic ad to get this, but man, have you seen those listings? Some people need to be learned the difference between “strictly platonic” and “casual encounter”.

Strictly platonic means just friends, people. Not just friends who have sex with one another. I don’t want to kill any time while I’m not sleeping with sex with a stranger. I’m cranky. My eyes are burning. My throat is sore. There is nothing sexy happening over here. Nothing.

Really, the perfect strictly platonic bedfellow that I would like to find would be My Sleep. I wonder if I can post a personal ad for that. Something a little bit like this:

You – soothing, refreshing, relaxing, revitalizing lack of consciousness with or without vivid imaginary adventures. Please be swift, effortless, and be able to last eight full hours.

No Snuggling.

OK, yeah, that was pretty lame, but what do you expect? It’s going on 4 in the morning, and my whole body knows that there is no reason why I should be awake, on the computer, and certainly not writing this blog.